“Not unless they take us to court and a judge tells us we have to,” Roberta answers. I think for a few long seconds—not so much about the name—but about the ways Chandra and her family will attack my credibility the second this story goes live. It doesn’t really matter that the Herald protects my name; the Campbells will be sure everyone knows who this unnamed source is and just how not credible I am. I move my eyes to Houston’s, looking for courage. He already knows the girl in the video isn’t me, but the rest of the world won’t. How much do I care?
“Paige, this story goes today or it doesn’t go at all,” Roberta says, as if any more pressure is necessary.
I’m the girl everyone looks up to.
I close my eyes, and allow myself one more deep breath. The air is cool, and my lungs grow full; I relish the feeling, because I don’t think they will feel that way again for a while.
“I’ll go on the record,” I say. “I saw it. The drugs, her—I saw it all.”
Houston’s smile slips away.
“Thank you, Paige. What you’re doing—it’s very brave,” she says, her voice sounding through a tin can. I feel dizzy, so I lay back. Houston stays sitting, he doesn’t join me.
“If you say so,” I say, hanging up. I let my hand fall to the side, the phone sliding out of my grip. His thumb has stopped. Why has his thumb stopped?
“How do you know Cee Cee?” he asks finally, his back is still to me. He hasn’t let go of my hand, but that feeling—the one that was a little like love? That’s gone from his grip. I think he’s worried about the trouble I’ve brought into this house.
“You know her real name is Chandra, right?” I say, and he shrugs.
“Her family always called her Cee Cee,” he says. “Honestly, I know very little about her. Her and Beth—they had this weird connection. They were so different, and sometimes I was sure Beth hated her. But sometimes she would act like she didn’t. She’d call; they’d talk. I think Cee Cee leaned on Beth. When she came to see Leah when she was born, Beth cried—and I could never tell if her tears were happy or sad that Cee Cee had come.”
It grows quiet while I wait to see if he has more to say. When he doesn’t, I begin to let him know everything else I have left—nothing more to hide.
“She goes to McConnell. Did you know that?” I say.
“Business major, or something. Her dad’s name is on a building, so I just assumed. I don’t go out of my way to see her. Kind of the opposite, really,” he shrugs, turning his body to face me more.
“She’s the Delta president. She’s also on the soccer team. And my sister’s better than her.” I lift myself to my elbows, looking at him so our eyes meet, and I smirk. “Chandra hates that.”
His smile comes again, not as full as before, but it’s back. Houston isn’t disappointed in me. He’s disappointed in Chandra, and maybe a little disappointed with the fact that he lets her near his daughter.
“She used some things I told her in confidence…well…all right, maybe not in confidence, but…you know…” His brow is pinching. “I didn’t think she was that mean.”
Houston chuckles. “I don’t know her well, but I know she’s mean,” he laughs.
“Right, well, you get the award for being a better judge of character. Good for you,” I say. I start to feel guilty that I’m snapping at him, but he picks my hand up again, his thumb stroking the knuckles, so I don’t apologize. “I told her things about Cass, and she used them to spread rumors and hurt my sister.”
Houston nods in understanding. “So when you saw her…” he leads me.
“Naked in a bedroom passed out and nearly OD’d?” I give it to him straight, and his eyes flash as he winces. “Yeah, I snapped some photos. It was a party. I was a little buzzed, but not that buzzed. I knew what I was doing. I sent them. To. Everybody.”
“And the video?” he asks.
“I have no proof, but…” I don’t need to finish it; Houston has it all put together.
“And that phone call…that was the paper?” he asks.
“Story goes live this afternoon,” I say, my eyes losing focus, the edges getting bright. I lie back down and close them, the anxiety of everything overwhelming me.
I feel the weight of his body slide next to me, his finger sweeping my hair behind my ear as I turn into him. When I open my eyes again, he’s looking at that hair, watching his hand move slowly. I watch him watch me for minutes, neither of us talking. For a small window, everything feels…okay.